


The Road Goes Ever On

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fem!Ori - Freeform, Female Bilbo, Gen, OC/Canon, fem!Bilbo, post book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years after Erebor's glorious revival, Thorin Oakenshield's Queen Belladonna dies of old age. The King is grieved by his wife's death, and becomes more reserved than he ever was. His family - His nephews and daughters - suffer the most from this drastic change, and the family that was held so close by the hobbit face the possibility of falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Her Wake

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I was so, so nervous about putting this up on AO3. I know a lot of people aren't keen on the idea of having a lot of OC characters in fanfiction, but I felt them so necessary for this particular piece of work. I don't expect a lot of attention for this thing, whatever it is, but I do hope that those of you who do end up reading it like it somewhat. So without further delay, read on! ( /; a;)/

The funeral was fit for a Queen.

As soon as the first light filtered through the large windows at the front of the mountain, dwarves began to gather and wait at the gates. Their voices, low as they could be, hummed a soothing tune that, while depressing, was reassuring. It was barely an hour until the entire kingdom came to pay their respects to the small Queen.

Belladonna Baggins.

She was laid in a wooden casket. No one frowned at it - Everyone knew why, and everyone thought it honorable; The Queen was no Dwarf, and thus was not carved from stone and cannot return to it. No, she was carved from nature. Her kind was grown from the soil, tended to with the utmost care. Her kind was soft inside, but always protected by a thickness that accounted for both personality and body. Her kind was strong, and thus must be honored rightfully. The casket was of cherry red wood, engraved with Westron and Khuzdul. Rubies and emeralds and many other gems decorated the casket in the forms of flowers- Thorin himself had suggested the design. At the head of the casket were sapphires, forming a crown of forget-me-nots. Fili and Kili suggested that. The cover of the casket was of a darker stain. It sparsely decorated with gems and barely engraved except at the borders. There was a simple insignia at the center - An ornate BB painted. The initials, designed in an ornate way that it overlapped. was bordered by a circle that was just as, if not more, ornate. Runes ran along its perimeter, a prayer for a safe journey. Bela and Kela came up with that.

The Company, with the exception of Thorin and Fili and Kili, carried the casket down the carved stairs. Their steps sounded as one, and the ground resonated with each one they took. It was like standing upon a drum, feeling the soft vibrations as it was pounded slowly. The Durins- that is, the King, his Crown Princes, and the Princesses - followed the casket. They stepped along with the Company, although no one would dare say that theirs had a slight falter. Everyone parted as they came down dressed in all black, their robes trailing behind them a foot or two.

They stopped short of an empty grave in the middle of a large garden. Her garden, tended to on her own and provided for on her own. It had been her only wish during the early stages of her marriage - “A garden, outside the mountain and at the front. Allow me that one happiness, Thorin Oakenshield, and I will allow you everything else,” was what she said that day, when Thorin had offered her anything she wanted. Such a simple thing, but it meant something to her and how could he have denied her that?

The common dwarves that surrounded the garden parted once more, and Thorin looked up to see why. His lips curved upwards weakly, his eyes softening at what he saw. Fili and Kili turned as well, and then Béla and Kéla, and then everyone else.

Hobbits came, relatives of the Queen. The Hobbits were mostly Tooks and Bagginses, much to the surprise of everyone. Weren’t Baggins against the idea of hard journey? Or perhaps their dedication to family was stronger than that. Nonetheless, Thorin was thankful. They brought flower crowns with them, each clan bearing different meanings. The Tooks’ weaved crowns that wished the late Queen a fantastic journey beyond the grave. The Baggins made instead crowns that thanked Belladonna for the joy she gave to the family. Thorin held one of them, eyes searching among the petals with a thoughtful gaze.

The two families brought with them a different pair of crowns as well, and both seemed dwarfish in style. They were grander, with vibrant colors of red, purples, yellows and all. Threaded through the stems of the flower were beads, large ones meant for braiding of the hair, and the Tooks refused to answer where they got them from. The crowns were brought to the two daughters of belladonna and Thorin, Béla and Kéla. Dwobbits in all sense of the word, but more dwarfish than hobbit. The sisters were touched, to say the least.

The Tooks came to the grave, tossing their crowns at Belladonna’s feet with a sad cheer. The Baggins did the same, and together the two families recited a poem.

“ _The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._ ”

It had been Bella’s favorite poem growing up. Even as a young child she had thought to go on adventures, never minding the destination. She always thought that the best ones had no real destination, anyway. Always wandering off the side of the road whenever she and her father would walk to Bree, always getting lost in the woods not too far from her backyard. Belladonna had yearned for adventure for so long, and now that she got it, she deserved one last journey beyond her grave. And it had better be a comfortable one.

It seemed fitting.

After the vigil, which carried throughout most of the day and deep into the night, most everyone returned to their homes. By midnight all who remained were a few of Belladonna's closest relatives, the Company, Thorin, and the princesses. By the time the moon began it's dip into the sky, making way for dawn, Thorin and his daughters were left.

"The two of you should retire. You've a busy day tomorrow," Or was it later? "I'll follow after."

Kéla stared at her father, knowing what he meant. She couldn't blame him, though. The thought of retiring to a chamber you shared with someone for so long, only finding it empty and void of the warmth one never noticed, must be unbearable. The brunette tugged at her sister's dark dress, and without a word the elder stood up and led them both into the mountain.

Thorin stared down at Belladonna’s face, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. The warmth of her cheeks against his would be gone, and the faint trace of her lips against his would be a pleasure he would definitely miss. How badly did he want to reach other and touch her? To hold her hand and feel her hold him back? How often did he remind himself that whole day, from the moment he realised he couldn’t sleep until now, when the moon began its descent, that he could never - would never - see that smile for the rest of his days? His One was gone, and he felt like it was a sick joke that was being played on him by the Gods. His love. His Ghivashel. His burglar.

He felt like it was his fault that she was gone, making her journey to Yavanna’s garden as he thought deeply of her. What if he had been kinder to her when they first met? What if he had spared her the trouble of becoming his wife by leaving her at Bag End all those years ago? She could have died together with someone else, someone befitting her softness. Someone that wasn’t him - Cold, dark, brooding. Belladonna Baggins deserved so much more than him, but out of selfish pride he still sought out her heart. And the worst part? She gave hers back in return. So came about the most tragic love story to be heard across Middle Earth, one where two lovers try to forget the inevitable.

He knew from the start that he would outlive his Hobbit, his Queen. But he paid no attention to the nagging thought. Every day he would look at her aging face, noticing another wrinkle every year. He would never mention it to her, not once nor ever. He could not. It would be a reminder to both of them. But the King did try to stall it for as much as he could. Several times Thorin asked Belladonna to stay inside, to enjoy the peace of their shared chambers instead of working hours at the garden he gave her. ‘You silly dwarf,’ The tiny hobbit laughed, putting on her gloves and grabbing a hold of her tools. And that was the end of every conversation in the morning, and Thorin would watch her from the balcony of Erebor.

“You should come in.”

“Kéla,” Thorin sighed, sitting on his heels.

“You’ve been kneeling for the entire day, adad,” His youngest’s voice was pleading, and a shuffle of feet and fabric later, Thorin felt a hand on his shoulder. “Let mother rest, please. Let her journey to Yavanna’s garden without your grief to hold her back.” The hold was firmer now, and Thorin felt himself give up.

He looked at his daughter, silence holding the space between them. He never looked at his daughters as much as he looked at his wife, and it was a shame. They took after him so much. Kela’s were a piercing blue, just like his own, and held as much fierceness and sincerity in them. Her face, though rounder and more hobbitlike than dwarfish, was angular and sharp at some places. Her nose jutted out, but in such a slender way, and it neither too big nor too small for the frame of her face. Her hair was light, however. Nearly blonde, but not quite. It was the only distinctive trait she had from Bela, in all truth, who had hair as dark as Thorin’s.

Thorin stood up as Kela turned to her mother’s casket, whispering softly. Thorin barely heard her, but caught a few rough Khuzdul sentences that made him smile. “Safe journey,” Kela whispered, smiling, before entering the mountain with her father.  

“Kela,” Thorin said as they neared the Royal Wing. He was replied with a thoughtful hum. The King bit his lip. Kela must have adopted that from her mother. He looked at his daughter, who had tilted her head in question. Thorin sighed, shaking his head. “Go to sleep,” Kela looked disappointed, but nodded. A quick curtsy and she was gone. A few seconds and then the King was, as well.

But it would take several more hours before he succumbed to sleep.

\---

The morning came too quickly for anyone’s liking.

Thorin forced his eyes open to his surroundings. He turned to look to his side, expecting the peaceful expression of his wife’s when she slept. His hand reached for the empty space, and a great sigh escaped his lips. So be it, then. He could always sleep elsewhere - Anywhere, as long as he didn’t have to wake up to such a painful reminder. The King turned his attention towards the high ceiling of his chambers, thoughts passing but not staying. They passed him like a stream, never stopping, always continuing. But him? He was like a boulder in the middle of it. Letting the water pass, curving around his frame and continuing on. He was a constant in that river, held in place by his being stubborn. But the thoughts would keep pushing against him, but it would be a long time before he gave in.  

The dwarf looked towards the chamber doors just as a knock came on. He sighed, forcing himself up. “Come in,” He commanded, and the doors opened. Balin walked in somberly, but offered his King and friend a sympathetic smile.

“I see you’ve risen,” He said plainly, taking a seat by the fire that offered little light in the room. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m fine, Balin,” Thorin growled quickly, cutting off Balin. “The day will go as normal. Breakfast with the Company, then meeting with the Hobbits-”

“And early breakfast? Are you not invited to breakfast with them?” Thorin sighed at the eyebrow raised at him. It’s still early, and early breakfast must still be in preparation. The hobbits didn’t ask for it, out of politeness or what who knew, but Thorin had it arranged nonetheless. He was invited, but he never gave a reply.

“Bela and Kela can go in my stead.” He said finally, shrugging. Fili and Kili, too, if they wanted. Balin stared at Thorin, and the latter turned to him after feeling its weight. “What?” He grumbled, shrugging on his robe, the fur collar hiding his scowl.

“You throw your daughters around as though they were mere subjects.” The statement was said bluntly, followed by a huff. Balin turned towards the fire and crossed his arms, ignoring the hurt expression that quickly spread across Thorin’s face.

“You will not make any assumptions on my character as a father!” The King roared, a crash of porcelain following after the outburst. Balin made no move to turn around. Heavy breathing filled the silence of the room, and the elder sighed.

“The one making assumptions is you, my King.” The fire began to dwindle, the wood with which it burned slowly becoming ash. "I am merely suggesting you stay in." There was a tone of finality in Balin's voice, one that made the King's shoulders drop. Balin turned towards him, his own shoulders hanging lower. “You gave her a family, Thorin. Best you take care of it.”

The King stood, his breathing slowed. He listened for Balin’s exit from his chambers before he called a servant in to announce his coming to early breakfast.

\---

For creatures now known for silent feet and quick movement, when it came to being around a table, they were boisterous.

Entering the dining hall was like entering a party - Hobbits were chattering, arguing, and laughing. Most of the Bagginses were seated where they should, while the Tooks were running about - Some with more plates than they should carry! The dwarves serving them - or rather, should have been serving them - stood at a corner, unsure of what they were supposed to do. Most hobbits had taken the dishes and set them down on their own. It was a hilarious sight, and for a morning after a vigil, almost inappropriate.

But hobbits were peculiar creatures, so there was not much to be surprised about.

Bela had entered the dining hall with her sister and cousins, though their entrance was not paid any attention to. The atmosphere of the hall was all too casual and happy, but even for the grieving daughter, it brought a smile on her face. And even more so for Kela, who had hooked her arm with another hobbit and began dancing about. Fili did the same for a hobbit lass, and Kili? Well, he went straight for the food. Bela chuckled at her relatives before setting herself down near the head of the table.

Bombur had decided to keep the food more hobbit than dwarf, much to the hobbits’ joy. The tables were decorated with silver platters of colorful dishes. Bread of all kinds - more than Bela had ever seen in her forty eight years of living - were being passed around as though they were mere toys. Fruits were gathered toward the center of the table, and the princess would grin every time someone would ask her loudly to pass something.

“Enjoying yourself?” A voice piped up beside her. Bela turned, taking a quick look. The hobbit looked more Took than Baggins, with short, cropped black hair. Her eyes were bright green, and it distracted the dwobbit for a moment. “I imagine your mother never told you how hobbit funerals work.”

Bela chuckled, “No, not really. It was one of those topics we never brought up,” She admitted.

“I’m Trifin, by the way,” The hobbitlass chirped, reaching over the princess for a slice of bread. “One of your cousins by marriage, once removed or something. You know the kind,” She continued as she took a bite of the slice.

“Are you a Took?” Bela asked, reaching for her own slice after seeing Trifin’s delighted expression after tasting it. It was _delicious_.

“Born and bred,” Trifin replied, giving her cousin a wide grin. She took another bite, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips. “Anyway- Hobbit funerals. They’re meant to be happy,” She paused when she saw Bela’s expression. A laugh escaped her lips and she covered her mouth for a moment. “I know, it must be horrific to you dwarves. But I promise it’s not like that, really. See,” She motioned for a pitcher of juice, and Bela quickly poured some for both of them. “Us hobbits don’t like being sad. We much prefer the opposite, really. So when it comes to funerals, we want to focus on the good things.”

Bela sipped her drink, “But what’s so good about another’s death?”

Trifin shook her head, “Nothing, obviously. But we focus on what they gave us when they were alive. The friendship, the joy. Some hobbits even prefer to give back things that were given to them because they had meant so much. Funerals are a way for us to give back to the dead, not grieve.” Bela turned to her plate and mulled over the information. Trifin smiled softly and continued eating, sometimes shouting over the table at relatives.

There was a hushed silence throughout the dining hall then, and everyone turned to the door at the head of the table. Bela fixed her posture, throwing a look at Kela to do the same. The door swung open and Thorin walked in. He took a quick look around the dining hall, a sad smile on his face. His eyes landed on Bela, who smiled at him and patted the seat near her. As soon as he sat, the chatter resumed.

“I would have thought it would be quieter,” Bela shrugged at her father. “Was it like this when you came in?”

“More or less,” Bela replied. She turned to Trifin, whose demeanor had become stiff. The princess put a hand on her shoulder, and the hobbit looked up tentatively at Thorin. “Father, this is Trifin.” Thorin nodded.

“I remember,” He said as the hobbitlass smiled. “You were smaller when I last saw you. How old are you now? Seventy something?”

“Eighty-two, now, actually,” Trifin said, her voice small. Bela eyed her. “Thank you for the breakfast, Your Highness. Everyone appreciates it. We’re glad you were able to come, as well.”

Thorin waved it away. “We’re more grateful that you all could come. I understand the journey must have been taxing on all of you.” Trifin nodded at that. “When do you plan on returning home?”

“Most of us will be leaving by the end of the week, actually. All of the Baggins, some of the Tooks,” Trifin reached over for a pitcher of the juice, which Bela helped her with.

“And you?” The princess asked, pouring the drink. She motioned to the bread they ate earlier, and Trifin nodded.

“I actually plan on staying,” She said softly, taking a bite. After swallowing, she added, her voice softer. “Permanently.”

Thorin and Bela raised eyebrows at that, smiles playing on their lips. They wouldn’t be as surprised if they were hobbits- Tooks, after all, were peculiar and adventurous. This would have been typical of them. “Why is that?” He asked, leaning on his elbows. Bela did the same, their undivided attention on Trifin.

The hobbit stammered and flushed pink before clearing her throat and continuing. “I- Well, I’m a toymaker, you see, and I was hoping to start business here in Erebor instead of at home.”

“Well, if you need help, you are more than welcome to come and ask. I’ll make sure to arrange meetings with guilds of similar craft for you as well, if it pleases you.” Bela nodded encouragingly at her father’s words, taking Trifin’s hand. “We’ll even accommodate your housing needs if need be.”

“Thank you.” Trifin smiled, and darted her eyes away. Thorin raised his hand and dismissed her, Bela watching as the hobbit stood and sat elsewhere on the table. The king waited a moment before turning to his daughter again.

“Have you been here long?” He asked, poking at his plate. Bela nodded. “Your sister? Cousins?” The princess looked up, her eyes pointing to a few seats down on the other side of the table. Thorin’s eyes followed, and he nodded. Silence remained between them for a moment, both royals thinking to themselves.

It was always like this between father and daughter. Everyone knew Thorin was more of the quiet type unless he brought out his royal, diplomatic demeanor - which meant being courteous and polite and relatively conversational. But with anyone else - with the exception of very, very few - he was quiet. Bela was like him in this way, where she preferred being quiet and nodding along in conversations. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to talk, it was more like she had few people she would very much like to talk to. Unlike her father, though, she was more apt to trust strangers with feelings.

“Ori is looking for apprentices now,” Bela said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She watched her father nod. “Her writing is revered throughout Erebor. And you know how I am with my books and I was hoping-”

“Do as you wish.”

“Thank you.” Bela looked away, biting her cheek. Her eyes searched for Trifin’s pixie hair, hoping she could find escape with her. The chatter of the hobbits and their bright clothes distracted her, and she looked down again. “May I be dismissed?”

Thorin looked at her, then down, and sighed. “Do as you wish.”

\---

“-and off he went, screaming bloody murder and cursing his luck. Not that he had any in the first place!” Fili laughed, his hands making animated gestures. He was just retelling the story of Kili’s first encounter with horses from the stables over in Ered Luin. Said dwarf was sitting on the chair beside his brother, a red blush creeping along his face. He hadn’t grown the beard he had wanted yet, but he still talked about his facial hair’s growth like it was some accomplishment. No one disagreed with him, but not really.

“I was thirty-five, you shit,” The brunet scoffed, crossing his arms. Fili rolled his eyes. The hobbits around them were all laughing at their stories, relaxed in the company of the crown princes. “And besides, you fail to mention what happened after.”

“Which was?” The brothers turned to their cousin, Kela, who had been playing with the hair of some hobbitlass that they were all sure was their cousin, twice removed, or something like that. The hobbit was turned away from them, talking with another instead. Her ears seemed… Pointed? At them anyway.

Fili huffed as Kili sat up to tell his addition to the story. “Fili was bitten by one of those wretched things,” He said, grinning. Many of their listeners leaned in, curious. “See, he was shouting at me and telling me that the correct way to gain a donkey’s trust and friendship was through food.” Many of the hobbits seemed to agree with that. “He had two apples, one on his right hand and the other on his left. Now, the right hand was resting on his hip, and I saw- Even from where I was standing, that a donkey was reaching for it. It opened its mouth, getting ready to bite, and then-!”

“It bit his ass!” Kela exclaimed, giggling. Her blond cousin pouted at her while Kili reached over and nudged her affectionately.

“That it did, and it ripped off a part of his pants and he had to walk home with his red ass hanging about for the whole world to see.”

“Alright, that’s not true and you know that,” Fili growled, kicking his brother. The younger dodged, snickering. “It’s not!” He said, looking to Kela for help. She shrugged, smiling, and returned to her hobbit’s short hair. Defeated, the crown prince looked away, leaving his brother to entertain the hobbits with what other embarrassing stories he had.

His eyes landed on his uncle, seated at the head of the table and talking to the elder hobbits. He watched his uncle talk, his face serious, a stark contrast to the hobbits’ cheerful expressions. A frowned tugged at Fili’s lips. Even from here, he could tell Thorin had his ‘kingly’ act put up. The facade began shortly after Erebor’s revival. Diplomats came, seeking treasure or at the very, very least, trade routes. People came to visit - Those from the Blue Mountain claimed rights to homes once abandoned, and many from the Iron Hills sought after glory by helping the restoration. It was at this time that Thorin was given a first hand experience on what it truly meant to be a king, and then it began.

He became more reserved, a political smile seemingly plastered on his face the entire time. Had it not been for Belladonna, Fili was sure he would have never seen his uncle’s smile ever again. The genuine one; The one that only a man could give to his family. Fili sighed, looking down. He was worried about Belladonna’s inevitable passing, and if it meant he would never see Thorin smile again. The love they shared seemed stronger than the love between Yavanna and Aule. The blond smiled fondly at memories of Kela referring to her mother as ‘Lady Yavanna’ and her father as ‘Lord Aule.’

Belladonna was more than an aunt to Fili and Kili both. She was like a mother to them, taking them in her plump little arms when Dis died. The memories of that day still tugged at his heart painfully, but it would’ve been worse. It should’ve been worse. ‘She walks the halls of Iluvatar, now,” The blonde hobbit said softly, nuzzling her button nose in the thick braids of her nephews. She even cooked breakfast, early and second, for them for several weeks until Thorin began complaining. But it was alright- Fili and Kili understood then that everyone lived and everyone died and it was inevitable.

They didn’t understand it when they found Belladonna lying in bed, though.

“-ee? Fee!” Kili whined, punching his brother’s arm. Fili broke his gaze from Thorin and stared at his brother, eyebrows raised and mouth open, asking silent questions. “Jeez, you’d think you’d have better hearing than that. Breakfast’s over, and we have training.”

Fili groaned at the reminder. He was a hundred and thirty, he didn’t need to go training. He shouldn’t be, anyway. He’s killed hundreds of orcs and wargs and accidentally wounded an elf- He didn’t need to do this. But that wasn’t really what he wanted to talk about anyway - Thorin was bothering him still. “Are you worried?”

“‘Bout what?” Kili asked, stuffing a bread into his mouth before a dwarf servant took the plate away.

“Uncle Thorin,” Fili said, his eyes still fixed on where Thorin had sat moments ago. He left the hall, trailed by his daughters, after breakfast ended. “Are you worried about him?”

The brunet frowned, standing up. “A bit, yeah,” He shook his head, “A lot- Very much. I don’t want him to turn back to ‘King Under the Mountain.’ It’s bad enough that he keeps his silence around us.”

Fili followed his brother out of the dining hall, a sigh escaping his lips. Even when Belladonna was here, Thorin kept his silence around his nephews, and was barely better around his daughters. By Eru - He almost resented Belladonna for taking Thorin’s smiles all to herself, but at least he showed them. “Before Erebor, before this whole damn thing, he was always so happy with her. You remember. When the eagles rescued us and he held her in his arms and apologized for his idiocy.”

Kili smiled at the memory. He remembered well, and so did everyone else that day. “Mahal, I never saw him smile like that. You would have thought Eru himself came before him bearing gifts fit for a king.” The brunet hummed thoughtfully, shaking his head. “No, that smile meant more than that.”

“Makes you wish we meant that much to him, huh?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think while editing I may have missed a few of Béla and Kéla's names. Their names do indeed have the é thing (I forget what it's called?) in their names, in case that caused confusion. 
> 
> Main characters are, namely, Thorin, Béla, Kéla, and Fili and Kili. Next chapter will talk more about Kéla and her relationship with Thorin and the brothers, and more on Belladonna's relationships with everyone else. lfdjhsl??
> 
> The poem recited by the hobbits is Tolkien's 'The Road Goes Ever On, and is the title of this fanfiction.


	2. For All Her Faults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kéla chapter, as I said. A bit of Kili, too, just to show their relationship. Thorin appears briefly! Woah. 
> 
> In other news, thank you so much for the comments and kudos thus far! They really helped get the whole chapter done in so short a time. I didn't expect to whip out nearly ten pages of writing so quickly! If it's no bother to anyone, more comments would be nice and welcome. 
> 
> And now, the chapter!
> 
> Edit: Fixed a blip I made during editting and revising!

The sun shone brightly, passing through the open windows of the royal wing and onto the stone floor. The rays bounced off the Queen’s tightly braided hair like gold, her blue eyes more pronounced in such display. A silver circlet sat atop her head, rubies and emeralds decorating its intricate metalwork. Belladonna sang without thought, the tune of her voice emanating the thoughts that could not be worded. By her feet knelt her daughter, Kéla, who hummed softly along with her mother’s song. Mornings often went this way - Belladonna and Kéla spending time in the royal wing whilst Thorin and Béla attended the routine meetings with the council and crown princes. Neither blondes minded. Often times in the afternoon the entire family would spend time together, having a meal and a conversation over that. Mornings were, instead, a time for the mother and her youngest daughter to bond.

It was no question that Kéla was more like her mother than her father. While her appearance was more attributed to her father’s, Kéla’s bright blue eyes were more Took, and her gold chestnut hair were more Baggins, and her kind nature was more hobbit. Belladonna doted on her since birth, though there were few who suspected that it was more than the physical similarities that caused that.

“Forty six,” Belladonna said, running her short fingers through Kéla’s hair. She tugged at tangles gently, loosening them. “That’s a nice number to be. I remember when I was forty six. Four years before I met your father and that blasted company of his.”

Kéla scoffed. She’s heard the story of the journey countless times, but every time her mother told it there was always something new. “Forty six for dwarves is different than forty six for hobbits, khagan,” The princess said.

Belladonna rolled her eyes, nudging her daughter playfully. “You forget you are part hobbit, Kéla. And in the presence of your own mother, oh may Yavanna grant me mercy upon you, child!” She laughed, a soft sigh following. “But really, I remember when I turned forty six and realised that I had no longer felt loved in my own home. Four years I brooded - Like your father when I put him out of the chambers - and waited. I never knew what I was waiting for until I saw that silly old wizard that morning, confusing me with his damned words.”

The Queen got a stifled chuckle at that, and she pulled her daughter’s head to rest on her lap and skirts. She stroked the blonde’s hair, humming once more. “Mother?” Kéla said softly, eyes closed and posture relaxed. Belladonna continued to stroke her hair. “Where do hobbits go when they die?”

Belladonna looked down at the golden head on her lap, her hand pausing for a heartbeat. She bit her lip, considering the best way to address the odd question. “To the land which they come from, in the loving arms of their creator.” Kéla nodded against the bright blue skirts of her mother’s, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“And dwarves?” Belladonna sighed, biting the inside of her cheek.

“To the halls of Iluvatar,” She said, though she knew her daughter didn’t need to know that.

“And Béla and I?” Kéla sat up, her eyes meeting Belladonna’s. “We are both hobbit and dwarf, but different enough to say we do not belong in either race. Where do we go?”

_Where do we go?_

Kéla forced her eyes open, frowning when she rubbed her eyes. Crying in her sleep had become more common since her mother’s passing. She never told anyone, not even Béla, about her nightly dreams. Most of them she couldn’t remember anyway, and the ones she did recall were too painful to put into words. The blonde sighed, turning over so that she stared at the high ceilings of her room. It was still dim, so servants wouldn’t be rushing into the chambers until later on. For now, it was just the princess and her thoughts.

Forty six.

Forty _fucking_ six.

In hobbit standards, she would be a proper adult. In hobbit standards, losing your parents at forty six was bearable, understandable. Kéla knew that the hobbit part of her had already ceased to grieve for her mother, and that it was ready to move on. But in dwarven standards, Kéla was still a child. She was still naive and insecure, a young babe needing direction and support. The princess let out a strained cry, burying her face in her hands as she tried to muffle her whimpers with a pursed lips.

Kéla wondered what it might be like for Béla, who didn’t spend as much time with her mother as her younger sister and father did. Would she be this distraught? Somehow, Kéla doubted it. She always thought that Béla preferred their father, judging by the amount of time she spent with him. Béla - being the older one, and probably more sensible one - probably finished her grieving and went back to her usual routine of meetings and writings. The princess sighed, shaking her head. No, she knew Béla better than that. 

Béla was a prodigy since birth. She was a miracle, for many reasons. First there was the matter of being female. Daughters were considered blessings, after all, so when Béla was born there was a large celebration, which had fireworks and magnificent displays and trunks of jewelry and clothes being given. That was what Kéla had been told, at least, by her cousins, who were only too eager to tell about it. And then there were her magnificent skills at writing and forging and when she was thirty nine she beat her cousins at a two on one spar while training.

Another sigh escaped Kéla’s lips. Oh, her sister was wonderful. 

But as much as her prodigiousness made her admirable, it also made the younger of the two resent her. When Kéla was born, the celebration wasn’t as grand. When she began learning letters and languages, her pronunciation wasn’t as smooth or perfect. And her hands - damn them - were always shaking that the entire family agreed she would be better off tending to the garden with her mother than learning to fight with her sister. The only compliment that Kéla heard daily was her beauty. For all her faults, she was, at least, the prettier sister.

A soft knock pulled Kéla from her thoughts. She looked out the window, judging the time by the amount of light that poured in. “Come in,” She called, closing her eyes and listening to the door creak open and the shuffling of feet. “Good morning.” Her servants reply in unison, and though Kéla could not see, she knew they curtsied.

She fluttered her eyes open, sitting up and letting her servants guide her through her morning routine. Stand up, undress. Let one of them put on her robe, and another lead her into the bathing chambers. Shrug off the robe and dip her toes in the water, then complain about its temperature. In a matter of minutes, the tub is drained and filled again, and Kéla is left there to sit in the water. Sometimes, when her hair was dirty, she would have a servant lather it with soap. After the blonde was rinsed, she was dressed in brightly colored dresses and left on her own to decide her schedule that day. 

Kéla eyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She received her mother’s clothes because Belladonna had known that Kéla would have wanted them and that they would never fit Béla. The blonde hummed, turning around to judge her appearance. If it wasn’t for her blue eyes and angular face, then she was sure she would be an exact copy of her mother.

There was another knock at her door, one that was louder in comparison to her servants’. The princess picked up her skirts and made her way to the entrance of her room, posture straight and chin up. She allowed her visitor to enter, commanding with a strong voice, and in moments her father stepped in. He bowed, and she returned it with a curtsy. Kéla held her breath, expecting nothing less than a frown and a command.

She was not disappointed, in the least. “Come,” Thorin said, turning on his heel and marching out of the bright room.

\---

Of all places to bring her to, Kéla definitely did not expect to be brought to her mother’s garden.

It had only been a week since the funeral, but already the patch of land was showing signs of being unkempt. The sight only tugged at Kéla’s heart, and she would have stepped forward to pull the fast growing weeds out had it not been for her father’s hand blocking her way. The blonde stood straight, looking at her father with curiosity. Why here?

“Your mother,” Thorin began, but then pursed his lips as though in consideration. “As you know, your mother asked for the garden when we were to be wed.”

“I do know,” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“As you also know, your mother taught you how to care for the garden properly,” Kéla grinned at that. She knew where this was going. “It would please me if you would-”

“I would gladly take care of the garden, adad,” She said brightly. Thorin stared for a moment, and Kéla cocked her head. “Is that not what you wanted?”

Thorin shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “No- No, that was what I wanted. I just thought,” He sighed. “You look a lot like your mother.” He gave another smile and turned to walk away. Kéla smiled at his retreating figure, then turned towards the garden.

\---

Kéla began work in the garden shortly after dressing appropriately for the task. Her emerald dress, embroidered with the finest gold thread, and royal jewelry had been put on the bed carelessly, replaced with a blouse and skirt, fluffed by a petticoat. Kéla’s long, singular braid that was tucked neatly into a bun at the top of her neck, where it met her intricate crown braid. Wisps of hair curled around her chin and neck, tickling her when a soft breeze would come by the garden.

It was just a bit before noon, judging by the sun’s position in the sky. The garden only had a few things to fix, weeds and trimming, so she would have been done by noon had it not been for some of the hobbits coming by to bid her farewell and share a few good tips- Not that Kéla really needed any.

“You know, mother,” Kéla said, trimming some of the perennials that outlined her grave. “I should really have a tree planted behind your tombstone. A small one, I think. Maybe an apple tree, hm?” Her mother always liked apples. Her apple pies were a favorite of hers.

She sat on her knees, looking at the tightly packed soil, knowing that several feet under was her mother’s body. The blonde sighed, putting her tools down. “Is it nice there? Where you are, now?” She asked softly. “You told me that you’d return to Yavanna’s garden, right? I’m sure they have lots of apple trees there. And if you have some hydrangeas, please send some this way. You know how much I love them,” She chuckled, letting her shoulders slump.

“Your Highness?” Kéla looked up at a young dwarf servant, her head bowed. “Your family requests your presence for luncheon.” The blonde nodded, standing up and following the dwarf into the mountain.

\---

Kili strolled towards the direction of the royal dining hall at a slow pace. He had no urge to hurry and be there on time, as was expected of his title as crown prince, and he knew his family would not mind terribly. And besides, he needed the time to think, sort his thoughts. Worry. The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, fumbling with some bead between his fingers. Worrying was something he’d been doing lately, which was uncharacteristic of him. He was, after all, the ever nonchalant Kili, who always seemed to be at ease or in some kind of good mood. Worrying was typically associated with his older brother.

But since Thorin began to fall into himself, Kili couldn’t help but worry. The King spoke considerably less to his family, save for the random instances that he had their interests in his agenda. But for the most part, his words were forced and almost scripted, and were typically directed at some diplomat or the other. It annoyed the brunet greatly, but he could never bring disrespect to his uncle by calling him out on it.

The way he kept his silence during meals, only ever making small conversation with his daughters. The way he looked at nothing, barely sparing a look at his nephews. And then there was the way he spoke, and what he talked about when he did - Council this, economy that. Relations with the people of Dale, the continued tension with Mirkwood - were all so tiring to hear, and he knew by the looks that his cousins and brother would agree.

And then there would be times when they wouldn’t hear from Thorin at all. It had only been a week, but already Thorin chose to skip out on some family meals. For breakfast, he would have his portion sent to his room. For luncheon, he would appear briefly and then leave. For dinner? Who knew where he could be? Knowing Thorin, Kili wouldn’t be surprised if he withdrew from them completely, locking himself in his office or his bedroom completely.

A part of him understood deeply what Thorin must be going through. Kili knew very well what it was like to lose a loved one, after all. But all that shouldn’t excuse his refusal to spend more time with his family. In fact, should it not demand more of their company? Kili shoved his hands in his pockets, a frown settling into his lips. Accusations began to form in his head, wondering why Thorin didn’t want their support, their comfort. Was he afraid? Did he think they were not worthy hearing his feelings?

One hundred and twenty seven years old, and still the dwarf felt incompetent in the eyes of his uncle. Numerous battles and admirable courage during the Battle of Five Armies, and still Kili felt like nothing under the icy blue eyes that he remembered growing up. Years of trying to make his uncle smile brightly, and beaten only by a charming hobbit who they might as well have kidnapped.

Belladonna Baggins, a proper bachelorette from a respectable family and a quiet town. Kili liked her, and maybe some childish part of him had fancied her when they first met fifty-something years ago. Kili scoffed at the memories of him bringing her flowers and offering his fur coat when it got chilly. But it was all just a childish crush, he knew now, because somehow he couldn’t shake the image of the hobbit being anything else other than a loving aunt, a mother-figure. The hobbit had found friends in Kili and his brother, mostly because they were most open to her when the journey began. The three of them would cheer and joke around each other, comfortable in each other’s presence. Kili often told exaggerated stories that he heard from his mother, and Fili would sit there, laughing, sometimes making an effort to scare their little hobbitlass with stories of monsters.

The two of them were her favorite dwarves then. By the time they reached Beorn, they were nearly inseparable. Of course, by then she was regarded as a sister to all of them, except Thorin, who spoke to her in small instances. But he gave her warm smiles and bouquets with metal clasps holding them. It took a while for the two brothers to realize what was happening - Until they found Thorin and Belladonna talking in hushed voices outside their guest rooms and kissed, that is.

They distanced themselves from Belladonna after they found out, but not too much. Still, it was enough for the young hobbit to notice. Fili guessed that she figured it was some dwarven custom, and she was right. Dwarves were very protective of their significant other, and it was expected of the one being courted that her friends would be distanced. Belladonna didn’t like that at all. Oh, she didn’t like it one bit. That was the day she began a series of changes in her relationship with Thorin. Thorin was baffled - almost insulted - when Belladonna had berated him for making his nephews feel like they shouldn’t be her friends. The argument went back and forth, but everyone knew that the smaller hobbit was going to win that. She did. She did, and change for dwarves began then.

Kili smiled, remembering all the things Belladonna had contributed to Erebor’s revival. The kingdom’s legacy was no longer the wealth that lay hidden still within the mountain. No, the legacy had become a rekindled fire in the hearts of dwarves. Gone were the days of stone-cold facades and suspicion. The dwarves became as they were created, fast in friendship. Trust was easily gained if only you were good to the dwarves. And then there were the other things - Relations with elves became friendlier, and friendships between the two races were more common. Kili himself found friends with Legolas, the Elven prince, and Tauriel. But the greatest thing that Belladonna had done was make the family feel whole.

Before Béla was born, when Erebor was still in the early days of her rebirth, Belladonna demanded that she spent as much time with ‘her boys’ as much as she was allowed - which was a lot, since she decided the allotted time spent. Dis and her enjoyed taking the two princes out for rides on ponies in the plains beside the mountain. It was rather fun, too, since the young princes often teased her for her initial hatred for ponies. Sometimes they would have picnics, and Thorin would come, and it would seem like a great feast.

Times were only happier when Béla was born. They didn’t go to picnics so far from the mountain, but they did enjoy having meals in the gardens. Surrounded by a pond, constructed by men and enchanted by elves, they would eat under the shade of a small gazebo, a surprise made by Thorin when he first presented the garden to her (Kili would often find them snogging in it, and he made sure to note his uncle’s impeccable skills at wooing the ladies. Who knew he had it in him?). Fili and Kili would play with their cousin, taking turns braiding her hair and reading stories that Ori wrote. Retelling the journey to reclaim Erebor was among their favorites to tell- and re-enact. By the time Kéla was born, Béla was two, nearing her third year. Kili always liked Kéla (he had even helped name her!) because she was more spirited than her sister. He proudly decided to become Kéla’s teacher, something Thorin agreed easily with.

“Are you just going to stand there? We both need to go in for luncheon, cousin,” Kili stammered as he looked behind him to see who spoke. Speak of the devil - It was Kéla. “Béla and Fili are probably waiting for us.” She said, stepping around him to get to the door. Kili looked at it; He hadn’t realised he made it there already.

The brunet nodded, smiling. Kéla pushed the door open, greeting her sister and Fili with warm smiles. Kili nodded at them, eyeing the empty seat at the head of the table. “We were just about to send for you again,” Fili said, gesturing towards the seats. “Uncle had his share brought to his room. It’s just us four.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Béla sighed, smiling warmly at her little sister as she sat down beside her. They shared kisses on both of their cheeks, sharing a few words in Sindarin. Kili only picked up the words ‘welfare’ and ‘sorry.’ He should probably polish his Sindarin later on, but shrugged it off. Béla looked at everyone and sighed. They were all thinking the same thing: Thorin should be here with them.

They ate silently for a moment, each child of Durin wondering what to talk about. Kili spoke first. “We should go on a picnic, I think. In the garden, maybe, or take the ponies out and venture a little ways east and have a picnic in the grass. Hell, we could visit Legolas and Tauriel if we go west instead.”

“You’re just finding an excuse to go see your girlfriend,” Kéla teased, flicking some food at him using her spoon as a catapult. Kili glared at her, dodging the attack and returning it with an attack of his own. Béla giggled in her seat as it turned into all out war, and Fili was helpless against the childish heart of his brother. “The two of you are just so pathetically single, it’s adorable,” The blonde laughed, flicking some food at Fili.

That seemed to rile up the blond, who picked up his plate and reached over the table to smother Kéla’s face in. Kili cheered, looking at Béla, who stood and tried to make an escape, but it was too late - All three of her relatives were pelting her with spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and cut fruit. They all fought valiantly then, wielding silver spoons as weapons and plates as means of defense. Forget luncheon, this was far more important.

The girls ducked behind a chair, barely missing the chunk of chicken that flew by. Kéla laughed as she stood up and threw a slice of meat across the room, hitting Fili right on his nose. The princesses giggled as they heard their cousin curse loudly in Khuzdul, too distracted to notice Kili dumping a bowl of peas over their heads. They shrieked, kicking their feet as the brunet carried them in his arms. Fili grinned at them, a plate in each of his hands. Kéla squirmed, trying to get out of Kili’s grip, and Béla tried to move away as Fili brought the plates closer to their faces.

“What is this?” All four looked at the door of the dining hall, stammering when they saw Thorin. “You dare waste your food? And abuse Belladonna’s china?” Kili let go of his cousins and stood erect beside his brother. Béla and Kéla wiped their faces and straightened their clothes before they stood with their heads bowed.

“It was only a bit of fun, Uncle-” Fili started, his eyes pointed towards the floor. Thorin growled at him.

“You will look at me when you speak,” He said, before turning his attention back to the four. “Bombur works hard to feed you, and this is how you give thanks? And what of the two of you, Béla and Kéla?” The princesses winced, Kéla biting her lip and Béla breathing slowly. “You are princesses of Erebor, raised with utmost care. I would have expected this behavior of my nephews but not of the two of you.” Kili could almost hear the silent exchange of ‘Your mother would be disappointed’ as he watched Thorin glare at his daughters. The king looked at him with a harsh glare, before turning away and stomping loudly down the hallway.

“You had better get yourselves cleaned,” Kili mumbled, looking at his cousins. They nodded, not looking at him, before running off. He looked at Fili with a strained smile before they, too, went off.

\---

Kéla found her way back to the garden after getting cleaned up. She walked aimlessly at first, only making a point to avoid where her father would typically be. The blonde tried to muck up the courage to talk to him, but knowing him, he’d only get mad at her again. The dwobbit ended up walking alone for a good half-hour around the castle, before spotting the entrance to her mother’s garden.

The garden grew since she was a child. It used to be a small patch of land, but over the years Thorin had come to add more land and order people to bring in all kinds of flowers. Kéla remembered when she was thirty-three and Belladonna brought her to the garden for some work, only for the both of them standing there staring at the bushes of roses. An amused smile played on Belladonna’s lips that day - Thorin had upsetted her the day before, and that was his way of apologizing. “Now I know how many roses to give you for you to forgive me,” Thorin said jokingly at supper. Kéla wondered if her death meant the end of the garden’s growth, but she tried to wave off the idea.

Kéla strolled the garden, humming softly as she examined all of the flowers. There was a whole section of perennials, another of annuals, and another of biennials. A relatively large patch of vegetables was at the southern part of the large garden, but all were out of season so there were no bearings to take. A few small trees took over the west end of the garden, where the gazebo laid hidden. Kéla followed the small stream that ran through the original perimeter of the garden - It was a clever and pretty irrigation system thought up by Thorin himself. Kéla hopped over the water and continued her walk to the gazebo, surprised to see her cousins situated at its steps.

“If Belladonna was still here, he would have joined us,” Kili’s voice sighed, aggravated. Kéla turned to walk away before she could still be seen, but hearing her cousins talk made her want to stay. “I don’t get it. I mean- I do, but, Eru, Fili. It’s only been a week! We should be at a worse state than him. We found her dead! Us!”

Kéla bit her lip. “Kili,” Fili said, trying to calm his brother down. The blonde turned to watch him put an arm around his brother.

“One hundred years old, Fili. Would’ve been a hundred one if she waited a few more weeks.” Just two more, Kéla thought. “We were going to bring her to Bag End and visit Frodo and everything. I wanted to show her I wasn’t a complete idiot, and that I could do things- Fili,” Kili choked on a sob, his head bowed and body shaking. “I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to thank her for stepping in when mother died.”

Fili squeezed Kili’s shoulder, sighing. “I wanted her to be present at the succession. It would’ve been too much to ask, considering that it’s still years before it’ll really happen, but,” The blond bit his lip, looking at Kili’s bowed head. “I always imagined her watching me with this immeasurable pride, that grin of hers beaming. She’d lead the applause, and Thorin would follow. Béla and Kéla, too.”

“You know what’s funny?” Kéla began to walk away- She didn’t want to hear the rest of their conversation. “I always thought that once Erebor was restored, we wouldn’t have to lose anyone else. I thought the days of death were done with. I thought wrong.” The blonde closed her eyes in frustration. Walk away. Walk away. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, but we’re all slipping, Fee. Uncle is- He’s not even talking to us like he used to. I can’t even look at Kéla without seeing Belladonna!”

Kéla swallowed her frustration, picking up her skirts and making as quick and quiet of an exit as she could. A part of her actually resented the effort; She didn’t want to be any more hobbit than she looked. It was tough being the more hobbit of the princesses, and with her mother gone, she was seen as a replacement. That’s all. Nothing more than a replacement. The blonde broke down when she reached the interior of the mountain.

For all her faults, at least she was the painful reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrr. I was thinking I progressed a bit further than I wanted with that chapter. Oh well. 
> 
> For those of you who were wondering, it's been about fifty years since the beginning of the quest. Belladonna ran off for the adventure at fifty years old, had Béla two years later (a year after the restoration of Erebor), and Kéla two years after that. Dis's death will be elaborated on in a later chapter, so I won't be saying much of it now. 
> 
> Uuuuh. Fili might be elaborated on in the next chapter, or something. I might make it mostly Béla next time, but who knows? 
> 
> Oh! And Béla and Kéla are fluent in Sindarin. Kili knows a bit because of Legolas and Tauriel.


	3. Of Fear and Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili chapter. Would've done a Bela chapter, but the blond's character just fleshed out perfectly to me and I just had to write it out. Relatively short chapter compared to the others, but detailed still. Enjoy!

**Of Fear and Terror**

* * *

 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Ori said from where she sat in the shade. Her back was against a tree, her knees brought up so that she could write in her notebook. Her pen scribbled against the parchments, the soft scratches soothing to the dwarflass’s ears. The dwarf looked up, raising an eyebrow at Fili, who had been hacking away at an unfortunate target for about an hour now.

“I am not,” the blond said, each word following a huff and another strike at the target. The prince never liked shouting, so taking his anger out via rough stabs and sudden slashes was his only option. He swung his sword in one hand, eyes fixated on the wooden stump before him.

Ori rolled her eyes at him. “You’re right,” She said, turning her attention back to her notebook. “Don’t beat the poor target over it.”

Fili let his hands drop to his sides. He growled at nothing in particular, before turning promptly towards Ori, his left hand pointing a sword at a very much uninterested dwarf. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, his hand falling to his side once more. Ori tensed slightly at his actions, but smiled amusedly when he dropped the sword.

Defeated, the blond turned towards his target with a tired frown. He wanted to add more blows to the wooden stump, and even jab it a few times, but he was just too tired to even bother. He glanced at Ori, then looked back at the target and pursed his lips in consideration. Ori had been accompanying him for the majority of the day since he left Kili own his one. She had run into him (accidentally, she said) and decided to be at his side until he relaxed. Unfortunately, Fili paid no attention to her the entire time, choosing instead to vent using violence. Ori was patient though, and the prince couldn’t help but feel thankful for that. Fili sheathed his swords and laid them down beside the stump before he made his way to the redhead’s side.

Fili kneeled down beside Ori as she looked up, their eyes level. The prince broke the gaze for a second, glancing at their surroundings, before leaning in to give the dwarflass a kiss. It was chaste and sweet, and would have been simply a peck had the redhead not cupped the blond’s cheek. They pulled away from each other, a soft smile playing on both of their slightly pinked lips. Playfully, Ori pushed the prince away and returned to her writing, biting her lip to get rid of that awfully persistent grin.

“You’re blushing,” The blond teased, leaning on his arm. “And smiling too - Now what caused this?” Ori swatted at him, still fighting the damn smile. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. It’s lovely on you.”

Ori sighed exasperatedly, glaring at her prince. “Shut up, Fili Durinson, or so help me I will charge you with sexual offense,” Fili grinned cheekily at her, making the redhead stammer more. He leaned forward, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow. “Repeated sexual offense.” She clarified with a huff, focusing her attention on her notes as best as she could.

“Whatever you say, Ree,” The blond hummed, reaching over to take away Ori’s notebook from her lap. She opened her mouth to scold him, growling when the prince pressed his head on her lap and - Mahal save her - purred. “I’m a lion.”

Ori let out a laugh at that, pressing her hands to her face. Her cheeks blushed red, and Fili took in the sight to heart. “Oh, are you now? Well, please get your head off of my lap, Master Lion. Your mane is tickling me.” She quipped, pushing the prince away halfheartedly. Fili sat up and leaned forward so that their noses touched, and the two calmed down enough to just share a loving gaze.

“Oh yeah,” Fili scoffed, flexing his arms. Ori rolled her eyes. “King of the wild, you know how it is. All the lionesses line up to bear my children, don’t you know?” The other began to giggle madly, unable to keep her cool. Her persistent grin didn’t help, either. The blond chuckled at her reactions, his heart warming.

“You know, Master Lion,” She said softly, grinning as Fili chuckled at his new nickname. “You should make this thing official and court me properly.”

The blond stared into Ori’s brown eyes, his brows furrowed. He’d been considering it - Actually, he’d been considering it for a considerably long time. But with Thorin acting the way he is, the blonde only lacked the confidence to do so. Ori, as though sensing his thoughts, frowned deeply and tried to push him away, more forcefully this time. “I want to, you know that,” He said, holding Ori’s hands in his. “It’s just that- Thorin’s being-”

“Difficult, I know, I know,” Fili had told her several times. She didn’t need to hear it one more. Sadly, the redhead pulled her hands away and shifted away, the blond moving aside to let her. Her eyes were downcast, and the crown prince couldn’t help but hate himself for causing that.

Ever since Kili took an interest in Kéla, Fili found himself to be lonely. His brother, for as long as he could remember, was his partner in crime and only friend. When he began to look after Kéla and take care of her and be his own version of a ‘big brother,’ Fili was left practically brotherless. He turned to Ori first, letting out his feelings of loneliness to her. The redhead comforted him, telling him soothing things so that he’d calm down. After a while, the two gradually became closer. Fili felt feelings of being her protector, at first, and after that, fondness. After that, he wanted Ori to be by his side forever and - though he’d never say it - love her.

The feeling was mutual.

“You know I’m just lucky to have you, right?” Fili said softly, daring a glance at Ori. She didn’t look back, didn’t even acknowledge him. “Ori, your eyes are brighter than polished mithril, and your hair alone can rival the brightest of rubies,” Ori pursed her lips, and Fili continued, ”I dream of the day I make you a bead of emerald or jade that’s worthy of your wearing.”

Ori sighed. “You say so, but why don’t you? A man who cannot commit to his word is a man I cannot love. Fully.” She picked up her things and stood up, not looking at Fili’s direction as she did. “I love you, Fili, but I can’t keep doing this,” She waved her hand around, her mouth slightly open as she thought of a decent enough word to call them. Fili stood up, looking at her sadly. “This thing! My brothers don’t even know about you and I.”

The crown prince’s expression soured. “You think you can complain about your family?” He snarled, “Do you think you have any right to? So what if Nori and Dori know naught about you and I? My father died before I was even born. My mother died just a few years ago, and Belladonna died last week!”

“Fili-”

“My uncle won’t fucking look at me!” The blond continued, grabbing Ori’s shoulders. She whimpered softly, trying to push him away. “Kili is too busy playing ‘big brother’ with my cousin, and Béla grew up! And Kéla- Mahal, I don’t even know!” His grip tightened, making the redhead whimper even more.

“Fili, please, you’re hurting me-” She pushed weakly, the pain of her shoulders nearly unbearable. The crown prince’s eyes widened, and let go, stepping away. He let out a stream of apologizes, all of them ignored by a tearing dwarflass. “Just- Go away, I’m sorry. I have to go somewhere else.” Ori said, turning away and running. Fili stared at her retreating figure, grabbing at his hair and pulling, cursing loudly in Khuzdul.

\---

Later on, after supper (with another missing Thorin and an eerie silence among the four Durin children), Fili trudged towards his chambers. The halls passed him quickly, and anyone who greeted the prince was met with a tense silence. It took minutes to get to his room, and the blond slammed the large doors behind him. Frustration etched his tanned face, his lips turned downwards. After the events of the day, Fili could only hope for a better evening. He tossed his coat to the side, followed by a couple more layers of tunics and mail and whatever weapon he had with him that day, until he was stripped down to a bare chest. His swords clanged as it hit the ground, and normally the sharp noise would hurt his ears but no- Not today.

The cold air of the mountain hit him, raising his skin. The prince sighed as he made his way to the center of the room and let himself fall into the bed. He became tangled in the bedsheets in a matter of seconds, his head buried into a pillow.

Kings didn’t cry. But right now, he was not one. Fili wasn’t even sure what he was crying about. His family, probably. Maybe Ori, too. Or maybe just a terrible mix of everything and anything.

He thought about Thorin, and what he must be feeling. Did he feel at all remorseful for the way he’d been acting lately? Surely he knew that his family would suffer from all this silence. Ignorance. Fili snarled, muffled by his pillow. He clutched it tightly, breathing heavily. The way Thorin has been acting was so like him, he wasn’t sure why he was even surprised in the least. It was like that growing up! Thorin never once stepped in to act like a father when Fili’s own father died. No, he only taught the boys how to fight and to respect their race and take orders. Memories of bringing home things to make Thorin proud flashed through the blond’s head. Warm memories they could have been, had the passive expression of his uncle not been present in all of them.

He was only a child, a fatherless boy. He wanted to learn how to fight for the fun of it, not for the savagery that it was. He wanted to laugh atop his uncle, smacking his shoulder lightly with a wooden sword. He never wanted to grow up knowing he had a duty and destiny to fill; Fili only wanted a childhood. A childhood that Thorin could have given. But didn’t.

Fuck you! Fili threw the pillow across the room, choking on words that would never be voiced.

The action reminded Fili of his other problem - Ori. The blonde buried his face in his hands, frantically wiping away the tears that dared to form. The one jewel he regarded more beautiful than the Arkenstone itself, and he had hurt her. Hurt her, made her cry. Fili scared the one woman he knew he could fall in love with, only because she wanted them to be together properly. And after today, he probably lost all chances of being with her.

How long had he fancied her?

Back in Ered Luin, he had developed a small crush on her. Brought her spare jewels and small beads, anything he could afford at the time. Sometimes he’d pick flowers off the side of the road and present them to her, claiming, ‘I’ll marry you one day, Ori!’ proudly. Nori and Dori were amused by the blond’s actions, but never paid any real attention to them. They thought, and assumed, that it were only a childish crush and that the prince would grow up to find his true One. A woman of good standing, with a more respectable reputation.

There were no other women.

He was eighty two when he felt a surge of heat in his chest - One of passion, not pain. It felt like fire had been ignited in him, and there was a kind of melting of emotions. He remembered losing his breath instantly, and immediately after, his heart thumped against his chest like a hammer to an anvil. Just as suddenly as it occurred, it cooled off. He knew not what it was, except that he felt it when he saw Ori. He went to Balin that year, asking him what it meant, and the old dwarf simply smiled at him and said,

“You found your One, child.”

But the feeling had not returned until after Béla’s birth and Fili got to look at Ori properly. She had grown in the fifty years since the journey. There were the obvious things (though he didn’t notice them the random happenstances he saw her during the years), like the few inches of height, and her chest had grown as well, though he would never admit that he noticed that. Her beard had grown a bit, too, and she usually kept it tied with emerald green ribbons. She had become fond of jewelry, too, and had a great many piercings on her ears. Her hair, which was a chestnut brown back then, had acquired a copper luster. The short, bowlcut that it once was had grown longer, just barely past her shoulders. Her straight cut bangs had grown out, replaced with a braid that started at the crown, hung over her forehead, and ended behind her ear. The redhead had always claimed she never liked it being longer than it needed to be since it always got in the way of her writing.

Fili, whose breathing had become regular and calm, smiled a bit as he thought about her hair. He liked braiding it, and had played with different styles every now and then. There was something intimate about braiding another’s hair, something more than the implications of honor or love being bestowed upon the one whose hair was being braided. Maybe it was just Fili’s terrible feelings of love, but each strand he wove into an intricate braid made him feel like he was giving a part of him up to Ori. He didn’t want her - well, of course he did, but it was something else. He wanted her to have him.

But every time he did, he would hurt her. Scare her. The fiery lion inside him would lash out, mistakenly giving her harm when she deserved love. He was a beast, and she was just a lamb.

Fili blamed Thorin for the terror that he grew up to be.

\---

Fili woke up that next morning in Kili’s room. Startled by that fact, he stumbled out of bed, questioning how he even got to be in his brother’s room. He was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes (which was not much, considering he only left his pants on), and his hair was ridiculously tangled. Strays stuck out of several braids, and some of the bigger braids had become uneven. The blond groaned as he tried to loosen a braid, a curse hissing out of his lips.

“Oh, hey, you’re up.” Kili said, brushing his beard with a comb as he stepped out of his bathing chambers. Fili shot a questioning look at him, his blue eyes demanding answers. The younger of the two rolled his eyes. “You had one of your fits.” He said simply before turning back to the bathroom to return his comb.

Frowning, the blond turned to the door of the room, ignoring Kili’s protests as he stepped out and made his way towards his own room. He didn’t need his brother to look out for him, for fuck’s sake. He stomped down the hallway, his feet and chest bare. Dwarf servants blushed and looked away, but the blond paid no mind. He was just too furious to care.

His eyes widened when he approached his room and recognized Ori’s copper hair. He slowed down, mouth opening slightly, as the dwarf looked up at him. She was leaning against the wall beside the iron door, shoulders slumped and fingers fumbling with the hem of her knit sweater. Fili approached, making sure to keep his distance in case he lashed out at her again.

“Kili told me that you had a fit last night,” She said softly, looking down and biting her lip. “He asked if I could check on you. I thought you were in your room, but you weren’t replying to my knocking, so I figured I’d wait.” Fili stared at her. The redhead sighed, almost tiredly, and turned away.

“Wait- Ori,” The blond started, his hand outstretched. Ori stepped away, her eyes darting between his and his fingers. He pulled it back, nodding. “RIght, I’m just. Really sorry. About yesterday. Can I make it up to you?”

“I have to go. Béla’s waiting for me.” Was Ori’s reply. Fili watched her leave, hurt swelling in his chest. He made no further move to follow her, and instead entered his room.

The crown prince closed the doors silently behind him, leaning against the handles. He breathed deeply, trying to regain his calm demeanor from fifty years ago. He wanted to be that Fili again. The polite one, the gentle one. He wanted to make people happy, not make them scared. He was to be king, and hopefully Ori as his queen, but what kind of ruler would he be if he was abusive and terrifying?

Fili the Terror.

The title repeated itself in the prince’s head, pushing out any other thought. He could see it now; The blonde would be followed by his kingdom without question, but not out of adoration and love but out of fear. Whispers, bad ones, would scatter around the mountain - all of them about the abusing king and the abused queen. Kili would give his family a bad reputation, and eventually Durins everywhere would easily disregard their name in favor of smaller, more modest ones.

Thorin would go to the Shire, where nothing happened and life was peaceful. Kéla would follow him, perhaps marrying a hobbit and live her life raising children and going to parties. Kili would run off to Mirkwood, maybe, if his loyalty to his brother really did become as weak as Fili believed. Béla would hide among the books of the royal library, and then move to Ered Luin to live the remainder of her life as a scholar. Fili would be left alone, letting his anger and frustration out on Ori, who he probably had forced into marrying him. The blond groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

What happened to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, yeah. Bet you guys didn't expect that, did you? 
> 
> Fili is one hundred and thirty two in this verse, but I'm sure you guys didn't need to know that. He and Ori go way back, and I'm actually debating making a sidefic for the couple. 
> 
> As usual, comments would be much appreciated! (Especially ones that pick up on inconsistencies. Gods know how terrible I am at keeping things relatively linear. Whoops.)


	4. Remiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro to Bela and Thorin, and then we properly get on with the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas break is coming soon so you know that that means? More chapters! I'm going to try and stick to a more regular way of updating though. One chapter a week, maybe?

**Remiss**

* * *

 

_Step back, parry. Lunge, parry, block._

“Stop,” Dwalin sighed. Béla bit her cheek, annoyed. That was the fifth time in the past thirty minutes that he called a stop in her training. “Your stance in unbalanced, lass. Don’t lean forward, wait for an opening. You don’t ask for it. Can’t take something that ain’t there, can you?” The brunette frowned, directing her glare towards her practice partner, a soldier of maybe seventy years old. The dwarf shrugged slightly. “Again.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Béla did as she was told and stood at her starting position. She watched her partner do the same, observing his heavy breathing and the way his shoulders sagged. It wasn’t just her, then. Dwalin whistled at them, and the two took their stances. Bela made sure to keep her back straight, her piercing blue eyes fixated on the soldier. Dwalin whistled again, and the two began to circle each other.

 _Parry_. Béla held her sword in front of her vertically, just in time to ward off the soldier’s weak attack. She stepped aside, circling him again and dodging another blow. Don’t let the stress get to you, she thought as a clang of metal rang through her ears. She winced slightly; Her hearing was more sensitive than a dwarf’s, but not as much as a hobbit’s. The princess locked eyes with the soldier, frowning as he smirked, and brought her sword forward as he brought his down.

Their swords locked, each trainee pushing with all their might to get the other unbalanced. Béla held her stance fantastically, but stepped aside to let the other dwarf fall forward. He regained his balance quickly, turning towards the princess with a deeply set frown. Dwalin snorted. That was something her mother had done before.

Béla nodded her head briefly, a simple taunt to get the other dwarf to attack her. He charged towards her, but the princess was light on her feet and dodged easily. She smacked his back with the flat of her blade and saw Dwalin roll his eyes. The soldier let out a hiss of pain, watching the princess beckon him forward with her sword.

_Parry, block. Parry, dodge. Step aside, wait._

_Wait._

The soldier came at her once again, his hands holding the sword over his head. Béla could have rolled her eyes at the sight - What did he expect to accomplish? Smash her to pieces? The brunette charged forward, pushing the other off balance and fall on his bum. She smiled sweetly at him, though she made sure that her thoughts of him being a complete idiot came across. Dwalin chuckled. Bela stepped back, sword ready, as she watched the soldier come to his feet. He was allowed a few moments to get ready before Dwalin whistled again.

Béla twirled the sword in her hand, the lightweight metal becoming a favorite of hers. She held the hilt loosely, planning to parry and dodge the other’s attacks until she found a pattern to attack him with. She watched the redhead’s movements with a keen eye, reacting with poise and certainty whenever he made a single move towards her. The brunette frowned slightly; He had stepped his game up, and, knowing him, would not allow himself to be easily defeated.

Fine then, if that’s how he wanted to play.

They began immediately, both charging at each other with their swords held firmly in their hands. The soldier attacked swiftly, his movements precise and perfect - if not a bit rough. He swung at Béla with ferocity, fierceness, and it reflected off of his green eyes. The princess dodged just as skillfully, her feet moving around as though she were dancing. She only faltered slightly, keeping herself in check as she did. Left, left, back, right.

She saw an opening, but did not go for it. The soldier lunged at her, but did not hit. It was a game that went back and forth; A dance that went along the singing of metal and the stomping of feet. After a few minutes, some other trainees came to watch. A few minutes after that, Béla could hear them place bets. She chuckled inwardly; Dwarves were ridiculous. The princess ducked, barely missing a swing from her partner, and charged forward. The redhead caught her sword with his, the edges locking once again.

They bared their teeth at each other, pushing against each other’s weight. Neither of them were going to pull a hobbit trick, Béla knew, from the looks of it. Now was a time to show strength, not cunning. The princess dug her heels in the soft soil of the training grounds. Their blades screeched and scratched as they pushed, and Bela was sure that they were going to break. Taking a deep breath, she gave one final push, making the soldier stumble backwards. Béla picked up her feet and went forward immediately, the tip of her sword resting by the other’s collar.

“Stop,” Dwalin called, a chuckle in his voice. Béla let her sword to her side and stepped back, smiling at the soldier. He scoffed and returned it with his own grin, and the princess could have sworn she saw a tint of red on his cheeks. She blamed it on the adrenaline. “Footing is as beautiful as always, lass. Could work on your balance more though, but nothing else. You’re growing to become a fine dwarf indeed.”

Béla frowned slightly at the word. “Dwobbit,” She corrected, and Dwalin blushed slightly.

“Of course, Your Highness.” He nodded. “Your father would be very proud of you. I’ll see you back here in a few hours, make sure to bring your cousins with you.” Béla nodded firmly, curtsying to her trainer before he waved her off in dismissal.

Béla stepped out of the ring, smiling at the other trainees and soldiers present. They bowed to her, and greeted her formally in Khuzdul, and she waved her hand to let them be as they were. Some listened, easily becoming comfortable in her presence, while others hesitated still. Those she smiled at again, though it did not ease them one bit. The brunette kept up the actions until she was well out of the training grounds, and promptly let her expression fall into one of tiredness. She unbelted her pauldron from her body and shrugged it off, letting it slip off slightly before taking it in her hand. Her sword, now sheathed, was held tightly in her other hand. Béla looked around before pointing herself in one direction, towards the armory. There she dropped her things carelessly, knowing that someone else would be blamed for it.

Relieved of the weights, the princess went to her room to get a fresh change of clothes. She called in for a few servants, who rushed scattered throughout the bathroom to prepare for the princess’s bath. Once that was all set and done, Béla dismissed them to the main room before she let herself soak in the cold water. A sigh escaped her lips as her skin rose, the chill of the water numbing her for a moment before she got used to it.

_Oh, Kela, you look so much like your mother!_

_Kela, what a pretty, little darling you are._

_Aw, Kela. Aren’t you just a sweetheart?_

Béla snapped her eyes open, furrowing her brows together. She submerged her body in the water, pulling her knees close as she fumbled with her hair. Her fingers smoothed out the waves of her dark hair, tugging at beads that decorated the thickness. It was no doubt a trait she inherited from the line of Durin, something that made her father proud when she was a babe. When she was born, her hair had been golden, if not a little darker, but as the years passed the locks had taken a darker shade until they matched Thorin’s nearly black hair.

_You look like you could be made of gold, dearest Kela._

Béla shook her head, forcing the voices out of her thoughts. She continued to comb through her hair, singing softly to calm her nerves. Still, the voice was persistent. The princess frowned; She was not at all bothered by her sister. Rather, she loved her dearly.

If Thorin had loved Bela for her strength, then Belladonna loved Kela for her spirit. It was a wild sort of fire, a heated passion that drove her through her 46 years of living. While she wasn’t the active sort - in truth, any sort of activity that involved exertion of energy was left to Bela - she was witty and clever, and knew by heart the legends. She had inherited their mother’s Tookish fire, but as half-dwarf, it had grown hotter. The flame of her soul could rival a dragon’s breath. Bela chuckled softly to herself. If her sister wasn’t a dwarf-hobbit, she was sure that by some godly magic she would have been a dragon. Bela hummed, imagining her sister as a fiery drake, soaring through the sky and roaring. Maybe in another world, where dragons weren’t feared.

Kela was a gorgeous sister, is a gorgeous sister. Her mixed heritage gave her a lovely visage, her round face only slightly angled by her father’s genes. She was of a nice height, if not a little short, that seemed well proportioned. Despite being barely a proper adult, she was quite well endowed (actually, both sisters were, but no one dared mention it lest they wanted Thorin’s sword to their throat). Her hair was ridiculously curly, the main reason she had a single tight plait trailing down her back at all times. Bela mused at the idea of Kela’s morning routine.

The princess brought her hands up to her face, splashing a bit of cold water at herself. By the looks of her fingers, she guessed she had been in long enough. Bela called for her servants, who came in promptly and helped her dress. Bela sighed as her dress was put on, the soft blue fabric nearly weightless on her skin. She stood still as a dwarf fastened the dress, pulling at ribbons and tying them tightly. Bela moved her arms as she did so that the dress wouldn’t be so tight, and took in deep breaths. Sometimes she hated the way dwarves tightened their dresses. It meant having a large chest to be a tedious task.

“What time is it?” Bela asked, raising an eyebrow at a dwarf. The lad looked startled and fumbled to form words for a moment before replying that it was four hours after noon. Bela nodded at him, smiling. “Thank you. The lot of you are dismissed.” She entertained a chorus of thank you’s and bows before the servants filed out of her room.

Bela stood there idly, wondering what she should do for the next hour. She supposed she could look for Ori, but after hearing scattered rumors of what occured between her and her cousin, she figured it was best to leave her alone. Perhaps Kela? Bela pouted. No, she was probably busy with their mother’s garden and Bela didn’t want to ignite some hobbitlike hatred out of her sister. Bela nearly shuddered at the thought; She had had enough dealings with angry hobbits and gardens to last her a lifetime, anyway. Kili was probably making an idiot of himself in the tavern, boasting about his beard, and Bela didn’t even want to think about her father.

The princess paused, the thought of her father suddenly bringing a sadness upon her. She didn’t much like his latest act of forced attempts to be a decent father when he was trying to stay away from them, but as infuriating as he was, she still loved him.

Well. One hour with her father wouldn’t be so bad.

Bela gathered her skirts and walked briskly out of her room and into the direction of her father’s study. It was no long walk to there, considering she was in the royal wing already, anyway. The stream of thoughts that went through the dwobbit’s head had distracted her enough that she nearly missed the door. The brunette blinked, glancing between the soldiers who stood guard, and knocked at the door. She was met with a gruffly said command to come in, and she followed.

“Balin, I have no time to indulge with your inquiries on whether or not I am spending enough time with,” Thorin paused as he registered the face of his daughter. “Bela.” He said, nodding. He stood up to approach her and give her an awkward hug, one that the princess couldn’t help but relish.

“Adad,” She said, smiling softly at her father. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting you?” Thorin shook his head and gestured her to sit. “I just thought to visit you since I’ve an hour to myself before I go back for training.”

Thorin nodded. “How does it go? Is Dwalin treating you well?” He asked, sitting down across from his daughter.

“Fine,” Bela shrugged. “My stance is unbalanced, but nothing I can’t fix.”

“That’s great. Very good. I’m proud of you,” Thorin offered a smile, though a bit strained.

“Dwalin said you’d be. Told me I was growing to be a fine dwarf,” Thorin chuckled at that, nodding. “I had to correct him. I’m a dwobbit, not a dwarf.”

“But you have dwarf blood in you,” Thorin pointed out. Bela stared for a moment, shrugging. “Do not forget that, Bela. You carry within your body the blood of Durin. No greater honor can be bestowed upon you.”

Bela wanted to shake her head. Having the blood of her mother run through her was a better privilege. “But I am just as much hobbit as I am dwarf, adad.” Or have you forgotten? Her father winced slightly at the reminder, nodding. “Join us for dinner tonight.” It wasn’t a question.

Thorin pursed his lips, his blue eyes staring into Bela’s own. “Not tonight,” He said finally. The princess bit back a scowl, darting her eyes away. She stood and left, not bothering to ask for permission to leave. She would be granted of it anyway.

Not tonight.

If her mother were here, she would be sending Thorin out of the royal wing and left to find shelter with Dwalin.

\---

“Do you remember, back in the Shire?” Kili asked his cousins cheerfully, chucking a small piece of green at them. Bela deflected it, chuckling. “You two were so small, barely taller than my knees.” Fili raised an eyebrow at the reminder, glancing down at his legs and then at Bela and Kela.

“Durin’s beard,” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“You were dwarflings once,” Bela said, smiling at the brothers. “But I do remember the Shire. Beautiful place. I’m glad Frodo’s inheriting Bag End.” Admittedly, the boy was eleven years too young to inherit anything. He’s allowed to live in Bag End, but until he comes of age the estate will be held by the Thain.

“Oh, I miss Frodo. I didn’t get to see him when the hobbits visited last week,” Kela sighed sadly, her shoulders drooping slightly.

“The two of you would be happier in the Shire. I remember, I think you were just turning thirteen, Kela, and the two of you caused quite the racket with the fauntlings over in the markets.”

Kela rolled her eyes. “Oh, like you two haven’t caused trouble in your youth.”

“Oy, watch your tongue! I’m still kicking like a babe!” Bela and Kela giggled at Kili’s outburst.

“You _are_ a babe, aren’t you, baby brother?” Fili’s jest riled the brunet a bit, but he made no move against him. “Oh, relax. It’s just a bit of teasing.” He grinned and punched his brother’s arm playfully, earning him a pointed glare.

“I’d like to go back to the Shire,” Bela said, breaking the playful tension between the brothers. The four of them nodded their agreement, behind each of their smiles a warm memory. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone, though, hasn’t it?”

Bela leaned back into her chair, humming. “Twenty years, maybe?” She smirked, memories of running after Kela in Bag End coming alive in her head. She relished the familiarity of them, the details of each filling her senses. Waking up late on mornings, slipping on comfortable dresses and light petticoats. The food - Oh, how she loved hobbit food - and the atmosphere of happiness. A simple happiness, none that can’t be found in the soaring heights of Erebor. A happiness that is simple, that is unlike the grandness of the mountain.

“Perhaps one day, eh?” Kili suggested, leaning forward on his elbows. “Imagine, the four of us trotting into the Shire and into Bag End. Frodo would be ecstatic!”

“I hope you plan on sending him word before your arrival,” Bela snapped her head to the dining hall entrance first, her expression somewhere between astonishment and being ecstatic.

“You’re joining us for dinner.” Fili said, watching his uncle take his seat at the head of the table. “I thought- The servant said that you were busy with a meeting,” He added, breathlessly. Thorin bit his lip and shifted in his seat.

“I called it off.” Was his simple reply, but it was enough to get grins from the children of Durin. Kela, especially. Thorin made a point not to look at her so much, especially if his prediction of this being a long dinner to be true. “So what’s this about the Shire?” He asked, hoping to change the focus back to the original topic.

“It’s been a while since we’ve gone with Belladonna,” Kili said first. “It’s a shame you never went with us as often. I would have stepped in for you if only you’d ask.”

“I would much prefer you being entertained by hobbit women and getting drunk shamelessly in Bree, thank you,” Thorin scoffed. “Kili, son of Vili, acting King Under the Mountain. Stuff of legends.” Fili snorted beside him, glancing at his brother’s beet-red face. The king raised an eyebrow at them before turning his attention to his daughters, and more importantly, Bela.

They shared a look, both of them smiling.

“Can we go to the Shire and visit Frodo?” Kela chirped, demanding her father’s attention. Bela frowned a little at her sister’s childishness. “I mean, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Thorin nodded. “It has, but it’s much too soon. Winter comes soon enough, and by the time you’ll arrive it will be too cold for anyone to come out and play.” Kela shrunk back, disappointed, and turned her attention to her cousins.

“The Council must be furious with you,” Bela hummed, looking up at her father with a cocked eyebrow. The king shrugged. They shared a comfortable silence, both royals relieved of some weight on their shoulders.

But the thought of the Shire bothered Thorin still. “If you do decide to go, I will not want to come,” Thorin looked at his family, each of them furrowing their eyebrows.

“But- It’s the Shire. How can you not want to go?” Fili asked tentatively, his words coming out slowly.

“It would be a family retreat!” Followed Kela, confusion in her eyes. Thorin looked at Bela for help, who only fixed him with a nearly betrayed expression.

“It would be too,” Thorin began slowly, forcing his eyes on his plate. He had barely touched his food. “Painful.” The word was dragged, forced, and Bela stared at her father as his eyes begged for _mercy please, don’t make me do this, I can’t do this, I can’t go in that hole and remember what I’ve done to her._

She remembered what her mother said to Thorin, after they escaped the goblins in the Misty Mountains.

_I came back because you had lost your home, Thorin Oakenshield, and I’ll be damned if I don’t see it through!_

Bela understood, or somewhat.

“Stop thinking you kidnapped her!” Came Kili’s voice. He stood, dark eyes filling with anger. Thorin stared, the image of his nephew a spitting copy of himself. “You never kidnapped her,” He added weakly, eyes forced shut as he fought off tears. “Not you. Not just you, but for Mahal’s sake - for her sake - stop this.”

Thorin threw his head back, slamming his fists on the table. “Belladonna was- is my past! You are asking me to forget her! My time with her was no more than a blink in my life. I cannot let go of that.” His expression was pleading, asking for mercy that no one knew how to give.

“The longer you hold on to her, the shorter your time with us will be,” Kela said, standing up from her seat. She added, softer and with the threat of a cry, “We’re your family, adad. Her daughters. In us runs the blood of our mother. We are not her, I know,” She looked at him, a cold stare she gave. _But we are the damn closest things to her that you have, and I hate you for not caring._

Kela turned and left, and slowly the others followed. Thorin watched as Bela stood hesitantly, torn between being with her father and tell him no she wasn’t mad at him and it was okay and he was okay, and following her cousins and sister and hoping that it’d knock some sense into her father’s stone of a brain. She does both, in a way. The brunette leaned towards her father, pressing their foreheads together, and whispered an apology in Khuzdul. Then she pulls away to leave, letting her heavy skirts be dragged behind her.

Thorin ate his dinner alone, the ghostly presence of empty seats making his head throb. And tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Belladonna still held ownership of Bag End until her death, but she left it in the custody of the Gamgee's and some other relatives she could trust. When Frodo was made orphaned, she took him in and tried to come to Bag End for as often as possible, bringing her children (and Fili and Kili) with her. When she wasn't there, relatives would watch over him.  
> 2\. Thorin rarely came with them because of his duties as king, but there was one year where he joined them and left the kingdom to Balin.  
> 3\. Bela is much, much closer to Thorin if you guys haven't guessed at yet.  
> 4\. I am. Just. So close to killing myself with all this replacing of 'e's with 'é's. Please forgive cause I gave up. 
> 
> So, there's Chapter Four. Plot is looking to be moving, finally. Next chapter will be a flashback chapter because I've been itching to write one. Lots of Bella/Thorin in it, and teenager dwobbits, and flirty hobbitlads and two very protective dwarflads. It's going to be a filler chapter for the most part, and I'm sorry, but it will be cute, I swear on Durin's beard--
> 
> ALSO. Am I the only one who was slightly disappointed by Desolation? I mean, adding Radagast and the appendices was tolerable, but giving Kili a love interest? I mean, I know he's the hottest dwarf, but come on. Wasn't that a little pointless? I just want to see a movie where my little hobbit baby grows up with dwarves. :'( 
> 
> Anyway, as usual, comments and kudos would be much appreciated!


End file.
